by Maggie Price
Nicole’s business was relationships. With two of her clients lying in the morgue, it looked as if someone had decided to turn that business into murder. Jake clenched his hands. His business was also murder. Whoever had started this game would have to deal with him.
Turning a corner, he caught sight of Mel Hall leaning against one end of the ER’s admission counter. From behind the counter, a blond nurse slicked her gaze down Mel’s tall frame, appreciation glowing in her eyes.
Oblivious to the nurse’s attention, Mel pushed off the counter when he spied Jake. “Is the nurse helping Nicole change?”
“Yes. I want to leave when she’s ready, so let’s get our business out of the way.”
Mel crossed his arms over his chest. “What business?”
“Where you were tonight, starting around seven o’clock?”
“At home with Mother.”
“If I contact her, will she verify that?”
“Well, no.” Mel lifted a shoulder. “Mother’s ill. Very. She went to sleep around six. She was still asleep when Nicole’s friend Kathy called to tell me Nicole had been hurt and needed me.”
“No one can verify your whereabouts tonight?”
“No.” Mel’s eyes narrowed. “How could you even think I hurt Nicole?”
“Everyone stays on my list until I know for sure who slammed his fist into her temple.” Jake locked his gaze on Mel’s. “And maybe killed Villanova.”
“Look, I…” Color drained out of Mel’s face. “Did you say killed Villanova?”
“Yeah.” Jake decided Hall was either one hell of an actor, or the news had taken him by surprise. “Right now it looks like whoever murdered Ormiston also did Villanova. That’s two of your clients in as many nights. Two people whom you knew.”
“That doesn’t mean I killed them.”
“What kind of mood was Villanova in this morning when he left Miss Taylor’s office?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Did you have words with him?”
“Words?”
“Yeah, words. A disagreement. Did you argue?”
“I said goodbye, and he left. Then I went to the kitchen to make Nicole’s tea. That’s where I was when you showed up.”
“Where were you yesterday when Ormiston died?”
“I don’t know what time that was.”
“Start with the afternoon.”
“I was at the office until six. Then I went to Sebastian’s. I worked out a couple of hours, then went home.”
“What time was that?”
“Eight. Maybe a little later.”
Jake pursed his lips. Nicole had found Ormiston’s body around nine-thirty. “Was your mother awake when you got there?”
“No.” Mel closed his eyes. “She’s sick. I’m not sure how much longer she has.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Mel scraped a hand across the back of his neck. “Look, Sergeant, you can accuse me all you want, but I’m the last person you should suspect.”
“Why’s that?”
“I owe everything to Nicole. She hired me. She doesn’t blink when I need time off to take Mother to the doctor. If Nicole wasn’t helping to pay for my college, I would have to drop out. I would never hurt the company, much less Nicole. Part of my job is to watch out for her.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jake caught sight of a grizzled man with one forearm wrapped in a towel and blood seeping from a cut on his forehead shuffle to the counter. The blond nurse who’d given Mel the eye earlier streaked into action.
Jake looked back at Mel. “So you wouldn’t hurt Nicole. Any idea who might?”
“I don’t know anyone who would want to hurt her. I do know someone who wants to hurt any man who tries to get close to her.”
“Who?”
“Sebastian Peck.”
Jake’s spine went rigid. “What about Peck?”
“He has it bad for Nicole. Real bad. She considers him a friend. He wants to be more. A lot more.”
Jake ignored the twist of annoyance deep in his gut. “Did Peck tell you that?”
“He didn’t have to. It’s all over his face anytime some guy at the gym pays her attention.”
If Nicole looked as good in spandex as Jake imagined she would, he figured she got a lot of attention.
“I know that Ormiston had a membership to Sebastian’s,” Jake stated. “What about Villanova?”
“Him, too. He’s a tall, swarthy Latino—tons of women at the gym went crazy over him. Mostly, he hung around Nicole, which got him some go-to-hell looks from Sebastian.”
Jake reached into his pocket, pulled out the obituary he’d found that morning in Ormiston’s locker. “You know anything about a guy named Eddie Denson?”
Mel glanced at the column. “I met him at Sebastian’s a couple of months before he died in that car wreck.”
“Did Denson ever mention he used steroids?”
“No, but he looked like he took them.” Mel’s mouth settled into a grim line. “Ormiston must have thought that, too.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Once, I walked past Sebastian’s office while Ormiston was there. I heard him accuse Sebastian of turning Denson on to steroids.”
“What did Peck say about that?”
“He told Ormiston he didn’t appreciate being accused of something he hadn’t done. Then he told him to get out of his office.”
“Was anyone with you when you overheard that conversation?”
“No.”
Jake nodded. He now knew the reason Peck had avoided his gaze when asked if he’d ever heard Ormiston arguing with anyone. Ormiston had argued with him.
Mel scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry I got short with you earlier. Now that I know about Villanova, I realize why your questioning Nicole couldn’t wait. If he was murdered, whoever hit her could have killed her, too.”
“That sums it up,” Jake stated.
“When you take her home, you’ll stay there?”
“Yeah, on her couch. Just in case.”
Mel blew out a breath. “She needs arnica for her temple and cheek.”
Jake scowled. “Arnica?”
“It’s a herb that helps reduce swelling and bruising. I planned to make a compress, but I doubt you’re up to that.”
“Look, I—”
“There’s an all-night pharmacy near Nicole’s apartment.” Mel grabbed an admission form and pen off the counter and began jotting a list. “Ask the pharmacist for lotion with arnica. Apply some to Nicole’s temple and cheek as soon as you get her home. Then again in the morning.”
Jake shifted his stance. Somehow, the interview had ended and Mel had switched into healer mode. “Right.”
“She’s nauseated, so brew her some ginger tea.”
“Brew it…?”
Mel rolled his eyes. “Buy her ginger ale,” he said, handing over the list. “You sure you don’t need me to take her home?”
Jake crammed the list into his pocket. “I can handle the job.”
That was the truth, he thought—he could handle the job. What he wasn’t sure he could handle was knowing he was beginning to long for things he’d put behind him. Things he didn’t dare take because he knew how easily fate could snatch them away, leaving vicious, gaping holes that could never be filled.
That was one nightmare he had no intention of reliving. So, he would force everything else to some deep corner of his brain and concentrate solely on the job.
It was his bad luck that a killer had shoved Nicole right into the middle of that job.
Chapter 6
One hour later, Jake eased the cruiser into the parking lot outside Nicole’s apartment building. The reflection of security lights splashed against roofs of well-polished cars. He pulled into a spot, killed the engine, then let his gaze drift. He watched for any sign of movement through windshields, a reflection in a side mirror, a glint off a piece of chrome.
Nothing.
He shifted his attention to the nearby high-rise where artfully lit planters spilled ivy and vibrant blooms over each apartment’s balcony. As far as he could tell, nothing looked out of place. Nothing hinted that the bastard who’d assaulted Nicole earlier that night—and maybe murdered Villanova—lurked in the shadows, waiting to get a second chance at her.
Easing out a breath, Jake looked over at the passenger seat. Nicole had slipped into sleep while he was inside the drugstore buying ginger ale and whatever-the-hell kind of lotion Mel Hall had written in his precise, exact script on the list he’d made.
With her face angled toward him, enough illumination seeped into the cruiser so that he could make out the dark bruising that marred her right temple and cheek. Her hair had come uncoiled and now fell like golden rain off the shoulders of her dirt-smudged suit. Experimentally, he brushed a palm down that tangled mass of blond silk.
Her lips parted on a sigh.
Desire, hot and potent, slammed into his system.
He needed. He’d forgotten what it was like to really need. To thirst for a woman. For one woman.
This woman, he conceded.
He didn’t want to want her, but he did. Wanted her with such fierceness that this very minute he could cover her mouth with his and take her in one greedy gulp.
“Dammit.” He fought back the urge by reminding himself of how vulnerable she’d looked sitting on the hospital gurney, her cheek battered and pain swimming in her eyes. The wrinkled gown and sheet she’d clutched around her had made her seem small and defenseless.
For Nicole, the past twenty-four hours had been hell. She’d stumbled on to Ormiston’s body last night. He’d nearly taken her like an animal that morning in her office. A couple of hours ago a probable murderer had slugged her hard enough to give her a concussion. Now she was in danger of getting mauled by the cop who was supposed to protect her. Mauled while she slept, for crying out loud.
“Smooth move, Ford,” he muttered.
Knowing he’d better get out of the car before he lost his senses completely, he snagged the bag from the pharmacy, swung open the door, then snapped it closed behind him. Resting his palm against his holstered Glock, he scanned the still, quiet parking lot. The warm breeze drifted against his face; he could hear nothing but the faint swish of traffic several blocks away.
Satisfied that no threat hovered, he tucked the bag under one arm, rounded the hood, then pulled open the passenger door.
“Nicole?” Leaning in, he pressed his palm to her shoulder. “You’re home.”
“Hmm…” Her head lolled toward him, her lashes fluttering upward. “Jake?” His name was a husky murmur on the night air as she snuggled deeper into the cruiser’s upholstery.
“Stay with me,” he said when her lashes fluttered again. He squeezed her shoulder. “All you have to do is stay awake long enough for me to get you into bed.” He bit back a groan when he realized what he’d said. “Get you settled,” he amended.
“Right. Okay.” Her hand moved with the sluggishness of sleep when she nudged back one side of her hair. She blinked; her eyes went from slumberous to sharp as she pushed past the disorientation and peered through the windshield. “We’re home.”
“Yeah. After I put lotion on your cheek and fix you some ginger ale, you can go back to sleep. For a while, anyway. I have to wake you up every hour. Doctor’s orders.”
Her mouth curved as she pulled the strap of her purse onto her shoulder and slid her long, shapely legs out the open door. “If you ever want to stop being a cop, you can get work as a nurse.”
“I’ll hold on to my badge for now.” Positioning one hand on her elbow for support, he eased her up and out of the cruiser.
“Thanks. Jake, I…” She nearly toppled into him. “I’m just…”
“Light-headed and dizzy?” he asked, scooping her off her feet and into his arms.
“A little.”
“The doc said that’s to be expected.”
“Hmm.” She nestled her head against his shoulder with an ease of familiarity that tightened his gut.
Her warm scent wrapped around his senses so that he drew her in with every breath. Jake closed his eyes. Standing there, holding her lush body against his while clouds scuttled across the star-infested sky, he felt like a man rushing headlong over the verge of safety into the unknown.
She dipped her fingers into her purse; a key ring dangled from the hand she pressed against his chest. “My apartment’s on the top floor.” She tilted her chin up, gave him a sleepy smile. “Right about now, I bet you’re hoping the building has an elevator.”
Cocking his head, he studied the play of light and shadow slanting across her face. “If it doesn’t, I’ll just toss you over my shoulder and carry you up the stairs.”
“This must be what it feels like to be rescued,” she murmured, nuzzling her nose into the curve between his shoulder and neck.
The gesture went straight to his head like hot whiskey.
Setting his jaw, he turned and headed toward a lighted sidewalk lined by ground-hugging plants and flowers.
What the hell was she doing to him? How could she make him feel so many different emotions in so short a time? He knew if he let himself go, let down his guard, she could take him to that teetering edge of reason and insanity.
Knew also, if he did, he would be the one who would need rescuing, not her.
Feeling groggy and stiff, Nicole woke the next morning with a small moan. Her stomach did one flip, then settled. While the remnants of sleep faded, she kept her head still on the linen-encased pillow and assessed the damage. The titanic headache that had held her brain in a vise had been replaced by a slight pulsing behind her eyes. Her right cheek—which she knew must be a mass of bruising—ached like a bad tooth.
With careful movements she banked pillows with delicate edgings of lace behind her then inched upward, pulling the linen sheet with her. When her head failed to commence the lazy spinning that had plagued her the previous night, she sighed with relief.
Across the room, the first rays of dawn suffused gossamer curtains, glowing faintly on the ornate grillwork of her big brass bed. The calming scent of chamomile wafted from a crystal potpourri dish on the bleached-pine bureau. Always before, her bedroom had seemed an oasis of serenity with its warm lighting and white linen and lace, but not today.
Not when two men she’d known were dead. A sudden rush of tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away.
Had her attacker murdered DeSoto? she wondered. If so, was it the same man who’d injected Phillip with some substance that had paralyzed his lungs and suffocated the life out of him? She shuddered at the thought. Two of her clients were dead. At least one of them had died horribly. A thread of dismay wound through her at the almost unimaginable possibility that their deaths might be somehow linked to Meet Your Match.
Hugging her elbows, she pushed away the thought and cautioned herself not to panic. Not yet, anyway. Jake had said he didn’t know if DeSoto had been murdered. Wouldn’t know until later this morning after an autopsy had been done.
With an effort, she drew herself in. She had learned long ago the best way to survive a crisis was to keep busy. So, she would, she resolved, making a mental list of to-dos. She needed to call Bill. Though he and Whitney were due home from their honeymoon the next day, she didn’t want to take a chance her brother might find out about his friend’s death by reading about it in the newspaper. She also wanted to call Phillip’s son to ask again if the family needed anything and to find out if his father’s funeral had been scheduled. If so, she would have Mel send flowers and clear her calendar to attend the service.
Feeling better now that she had a plan, Nicole glanced across the room at the love seat covered in ivory damask. Her tattered red suit sagged over one rolled arm like a wilted rose. Her brows slid together while she tried to remember getting undressed. Her mind formed the hazy image of Jake stirring her awake in his cruiser, of him lifting her into his arms. Of his warm
, musky scent as they rode the elevator. Of being cradled against his hard, solid chest while he angled her key into the lock on her front door. She remembered him easing her down onto the edge of the bed, knew she’d barely kept from falling back to sleep while he stroked lotion on her cheek.
But, no, she had no memory of undressing herself.
Glancing down, she lifted the edge of the sheet. Relief swept through her when she saw she was still wearing the black bustier and matching bikini panties she’d had on under the suit. She no longer wore her thigh-high black hose. Her blood heated at the thought of Jake slipping off her suit. Of his hands skimming her flesh as he peeled wisps of nylon down her legs.
God, she wanted his hands on her. Wanted his mouth on hers again. Every instinct told her Jake was wrong for her. Yet, something about him made her want to tempt fate. What that something was, she had no idea. She just knew she wanted more of him.
A lot more.
She didn’t want to accept that her emotions could spin out of control so quickly, or leave her such little choice. But they had.
Right now Jake was only a short flight of stairs away, down in her living room, probably still asleep on her couch. Did he look as appealing in the mornings as she imagined he would with his dark hair rumpled and his eyes heavy from sleep?
Her fingers curled against the desire that thudded in the pit of her stomach. She would do well to remember that Jake was downstairs solely because he was a cop. He’d spent the night guarding her. And checking on her, she now recalled as the image of him waking her throughout the night floated back.
Yes, he was with her because he was a cop, but nursing care went well beyond his duties. At the hospital, Jake admitted she had become more than just a job to him. How much more, she didn’t know. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Blowing out a sigh, she closed her eyes and wondered who she was trying to kid. She wanted to know everything about this man.
After a quick shower, Nicole dressed in a long turquoise blouse and black leggings, then bundled her hair on top of her head. The smell of bacon frying lured her downstairs. Barefoot, she padded into the living room she’d furnished with warmth and a sure touch. The sight of the holstered gun and gold badge lying on the coffee table in front of the sofa had her pausing. She supposed when one lived with a cop, one got used to the trappings of the profession. She raised an eyebrow at the image of her orderly brother Bill waking to the sight of Whitney’s police gear strewn across their coffee table.
